


Not What It Seems

by carpelucem



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Snow White and the Huntsman (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpelucem/pseuds/carpelucem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was an unwieldy chambermaid, but Eric swept along the flagstones the same, offering his company more than his domestic skills to Snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not What It Seems

In the hours and days following Ravenna’s defeat, the townspeople came to the castle to help clear the keep of any last remnants of her reign, ushering out the old and welcoming in the new. With brooms and mops, they showed fealty to their newly named queen, sweeping the evil from each corner of the castle like dust into the courtyard.

Ravenna’s chambers, however, were off-limits to all but Snow and the Huntsman. Snow claimed it was her responsibility to cleanse those rooms of the former queen’s darkness, and hers alone. She refused assistance from villagers, from William, from all but the Huntsman.

Odd times of the day and night, Eric would find Snow in the deserted space, gazing into the gold disc or looking out at the sea from the window in what used to be the room of her father. In his hands, the times he sought her out, Eric carried a broom instead of an ax. His fingers were clumsy around its slender wooden handle, the light weight foreign against his palm, but he never hesitated to pick it up when he entered. He was an unwieldy chambermaid, but Eric swept along the flagstones the same, offering his company more than his domestic skills to Snow.

Her smile brightened the darkest corners of those dim rooms, and what would seem like lowly housekeeping chores to other men became moments Eric looked forward to.

After a week of removing feathers and lace from the upper tiers of the castle, Snow and Eric had finally cleared all but Ravenna’s great hall. A tinge of malodorous rage still clouded the chamber, thick like the tar that coated the roof, but Snow strode across the floor, parted the draperies, and let the sun stream in through the glass, lending the room an almost cheery glow.

They worked in silence, mostly, a state that was comfortable for them. Idle chatter had no place between Eric and Snow, they had both learned the value of words spoken to one another, and saved them for when they were truly needed.

When Snow’s cry rang out across the chamber, Eric dropped the cursed twig broom in his hand and swiftly made his way to her side. His lady had wedged herself behind Ravenna’s throne, slim fingers wrapped around something that glinted dully in the afternoon sunlight. It was a groan of persistent frustration, as she tugged and tried to work the object free from its hiding place.

"Princess." he started, but Snow just shook her head and moved away.

"I haven’t the strength."

Eric moved into the narrow void left by her person, sliding his shoulder against the wall. His forearm barely fit into the slender gap between the seat and stone wall, but Eric fumbled until his hand found a stout metal handle. It was heavy, and from the weight against his palm, Eric knew it wouldn’t fit through the space available to him. 

Wracking his brain for a solution, Eric asked Snow to move back, clearing the immediate area. Bracing his body against the rampart, Eric heaved the chair over, the dust trapped beneath billowing into the air. Snow coughed as the particles swirled around her, hands fluttering like birds near her face, trying to disperse the cloud.

He looked back to the newly freed area and the object came into clear view.

It was a cudgel of some sort, similar in shape to the hammer of a blacksmith. The metal surface was dull and worn, and the leather wrapped about the base was cracked and brittle.

"Some long-forgotten treasure?" Eric asked, a wry flip to his query. He started towards it, to procure it for Snow, but before he could remove it, she rushed forward.

"May I?"

Eric nodded, stayed firm in his place.

"I’ve never laid eyes upon it," Snow answered. She moved to lift the tool, but it refused to budge, despite her best efforts. Eric knew his princess to be strong, she could wield a broadsword in battle as readily as any man he’d ever fought beside, so the object had to be unnaturally heavy.

"Perhaps it’s enchanted," he offered, only half-joking, as she returned to where he stood.

"You try," Snow offered, laying her hand on his elbow, propelling him towards the object.

Eric knelt down in front of the hammer, took a deep breath, and tried to move it. The handle grew warm under his touch, and as he pulled himself back, it came with him, surface smoothing to a fine silver that gleamed in the daylight. A pattern revealed itself as he turned it in his palm, and Eric could swear an oath that he heard a faint humming noise that almost sounded like his name. When he turned to face Snow, instead of seeing her before him, a flood of images played across Eric’s mind. 

Impossible scenes, like a royal court unlike any he’d ever seen, men flying as birds, grand halls, and a dark haired boy just out of his reach, calling to him by a different name.

In his shock, Eric meant to drop the hammer, but somehow the leather had caught about his wrist and it wouldn’t untangle.

"It must be yours," Snow exclaimed softly, wonder in her eyes, as her gaze moved between Eric and the hammer he held.

"You’re the one with the powers, the one who can heal the land. I don’t know what to do with this," he started, but Snow simply shook her head.

”But you are capable of healing people. Eric, you’re the one who must be enchanted.” Snow’s fingers closed over his, and the metal in his palm warmed further.

"Princess, I have never laid eyes upon this, not in all my days." And yet, Eric seemed able to lift the instrument without difficulty, the weight comfortable and familiar in his hand. 

It was curious and strange and terrifying, as Eric sat that night, poring over the object. He knew the Queen had dealt in the blackest of magics, and he wanted no part in her spells. But he was drawn to the hammer, even if he couldn’t discern why.

—

From his perch on the Bifrost, Heimdall saw the events before him unfold. A ghost of a smile cracked his lips before he turned his gaze elsewhere in the realms.

"It will come to you in time. Be patient, and return home soon, my prince."


End file.
